


Life sucks, but in a beautiful kind of way

by ConsultingStag



Series: Life sucks (until an android sucks you) [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, RK900 likes to mess with gremlin boi, Soft RK900, lots of cursing bc Gavin, touch starved Gavin, unequipped RK900
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-13 16:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingStag/pseuds/ConsultingStag
Summary: Gavin stares at RK900 and regrets it immediately as its gray gaze bores into him.LED spinning yellow.Dissecting what happened.Analyzing the clues in front of it.And then a perfectly fake eyebrow lifts and equally fake lips twitch into a tiny smirk and Gavin knows that he is fucked.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s all a terrible fucking joke and Gavin is desperately waiting for the punchline he knows won’t come. Or maybe it’s a test to see how long it is going to take until Gavin just snaps and commits murder. If he doesn’t suffer an anger induced aneurism first and just keels over to die and be done with the shit-show his life is.

“Absolutely no fucking way am I going to work with that – that thing!”

Gavin might be shouting as he points a finger at the offending thing, he isn’t entirely sure but at this point it doesn’t really matter anymore. He’s certain the whole goddamn floor is watching them stand in Fowler’s office with its shitty glass walls.

“Let me tell you a thing, Reed,” Fowler sounds annoyed and like his patience had run out yesterday. “You are either going to work with  _ him _ or you can hand in your resignation.” Fowler pinches the bridge of his nose as if he is the one with a headache from this shit and not Gavin.

“Look, it’s not my decision. Upper management called this one for promoting better work relationships and look good in public, it’s just your bad luck that your stand on this matter is known by the entire police force and management decided you would make an excellent example.”

Gavin wants to punch someone and then get horribly drunk. Preferably the plastic prick that just stands to his right, fake body angled towards Gavin. Its face is blank, yet still manages to somehow look entirely displeased by Gavin’s outburst.

He hates the thing. Despises it even more than Anderson’s lapdog because that model at least doesn’t have this domineering and threatening aura around him that makes Gavin bristle with the need to claim control.

“Why don’t they promote Anderson fucking the damn thing he is partnered with?” Gavin sneers but to his surprise it's not Fowler that answers but his new nightmare of a partner, voice cold and analytical.

“I must inform you of your misunderstanding, Detective Reed, none of the RK models are equipped with components that would make this possible.”

“Well, I'm certain there are tons of explanation for Anderson shoving his tongue down the things throat.” And why the fuck is Gavin even arguing over this with the thing.

Fowler looks about as thrilled about this discussion as Gavin feels, and then he's dismissed, and he all but slams the door open, not bothering to try and conceal his bad mood. He's glad if the others decide to stay as far away from him as possible and not make fun of him. At least not to his face.

Gavin grinds his teeth when he sees Anderson doubling over, laughter spilling loud and undisguised from his lips as he clutches at plastic prick number one. Or prickless more like.

Whatever.

He kicks his chair once for good measure before sitting down heavily. He wonders if slamming his head against the table until he suffers a brain injury and won’t have to suffer this reality any longer is a stupid or absolutely brilliant idea when he hears footsteps behind him. Gavin swivels his chair around, ready to vent his bad mood on the unfortunate soul that wants to stand in the way of his bad temper when he is greeted by the sight of a perfectly ironed CyberLife uniform.

From his position he can’t see the things face, but he refuses to lift his head.

And who the fuck decided to build the new RK series so tall anyway? It’s fucking stupid. Gavin doesn’t like the fact that he feels dwarfed by that tall fucker. Not that he likes anything about RK900.

He scowls and swivels his chair back around, content, for now, with simply ignoring the big pain in the ass that is now in his life. The thing isn’t deterred by that and simply walks around the desk to stand in front of the empty workplace opposite of Gavin’s.

“Detective Reed, I hope that we will be able to work together to the best of both our abilities despite the fact that so far you have shown nothing but hostility towards me.” The tone is as precise and impersonal as a scalpel and Gavin doesn’t throw his empty mug at RK900 but it’s a very close thing.

“Listen here you piece of scrap, I don’t give a damn that we’re partners. If we’re not on an assignment I want you out of my fucking face.”

The things gaze is cold, and it looks unimpressed by Gavin’s declaration as it regards him.

“I do not intend to let your less than professional behaviour and attitude interfere with my duties, Detective Reed.” That said, the thing simply sits down opposite Gavin and levels its gaze at the monitor, not paying any more attention to Gavin who tries to awaken his hidden psychic powers, so he can kill the thing without getting into trouble.

It feels an awful lot like a dismissal and that idea doesn’t sit right with Gavin.

If anything, it should be the other damn way around.

“Aren’t you supposed to listen to what I say?”

And now the cold and heavy gaze is fully focused on him again and Gavin would rather burn his throat with too coffee than admit that the gaze makes him want to squirm where he sits. It feels too scrutinizing. Makes him feel exposed and seen through. The difference to Anderson’s android is so stark and apparent that it feels weird to see the similarities in their facial features.

“I am under no obligations to follow your orders, Detective. I am assigned to work with you. Not under you. Even if that was the case, I would only be required to follow reasonable orders.”

He is up and halfway bent over his desk before he knows it and his fingers clench around the front of the things uniform, a sense of satisfaction rising from the way the fabric crinkles beneath his fingers. He pulls hard and the plastic prick rises to his feet and leans forward as well and a hand closes around Gavin’s wrist and squeezes hard enough he is sure it’s gonna leave a fucking bruise. But Gavin knows that most of his colleagues are watching them and doesn’t so much as flinch at the pain. Wouldn’t back down even if they were alone. He won’t back down from a fight. Much less one he started himself. Even less against this damn plastic prick.

RK900 seems to realize Gavin’s mindset as well and his grip slackens. And then Gavin is sure someone must have slipped him some sort of hallucinogens because the fucker just starts to  _ stroke _ over the exposed skin of his wrist. Fake thumb rubbing over his pulse point.

And it’s utterly horrible.

The fingers actually feel warm and soft against his skin. The contrast to the earlier pain stark and startling. He can feel goosebumps rise in response and the change from violent to gentle is so unexpected and startling that Gavin is momentarily stunned and frozen. But only until his brain catches up with the fact that it feels  _ nice  _ and  _ good _ and that he relaxed his grip without noticing.

He lets go of RK900 as if burned, his heart racing with a surge of adrenaline that didn’t come from the near violence.

Gavin stares at RK900 and regrets it immediately as its gray gaze bores into him.

LED spinning yellow.

Dissecting what happened.

Analyzing the clues in front of it.

And then a perfectly fake eyebrow lifts and equally fake lips twitch into a tiny smirk and Gavin knows that he is fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame the Hank/Connor discord server for making me all soft for Reed900 and writing this instead of working on any of the like twenty Hannor plot bubbles I have written down  
> Someone mentioned Reed being a touch-starved tsundere and I really like that idea 
> 
> also this pairing reminds me so much of Sebastian/Moriarty, just with less murder
> 
> original work title: Life sucks - until an android sucks your dick
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it so far! Feel free to shout out any mistakes in the comments or just shout at me


	2. Chapter 2

When Gavin gets home he wants to get shitfaced and fall into a dreamless sleep, but he has to work the next morning and doesn't want to get chewed out by the damn tin-can for not being fucking professional. And fuck doesn't that say something about how deep he is in trouble when he would rather tug his tail and not face the android than get right into its fake face and spit his opinion for all to hear.

He wants to hide from the thing like some glass wearing nerd is hiding from bullies in school and Gavin hates it.

But he doesn't get drunk. Doesn't hit something until his hand is bruised and pulsing with waves of pain. Doesn't do anything he wants to do that could distract him from the nagging feeling of _shit_ and _fuck_ that settled in his chest.

Instead, he sits in front of the TV and stares at the flashing screen that shows some awful show or another without actually paying any attention to it.

His brain is going over the scene over and over again. Lingering on RK900’s touch going from painful to soft and soothing and how _nice_ it felt. He can pinpoint the exact spot where those fingers stroked over his skin. Remembers how real and warm they felt.

He knows it wasn't actually supposed to be a nice thing. Knows the android only wanted to throw Gavin off kilter and not cause a scene. And fuck if it didn't work.

Even if the RK unit surely didn't anticipate just how well it would work.

And Gavin thinks _fuck it all_ and gets drunk anyway, not shitfaced but buzzed enough that the big sign spelling ‘doomed’ that's hanging over him gets fuzzy and doesn't seem as problematic anymore.

He thinks about the last time someone touched him. Not like his friends and buddies do, bumps and shoulder claps and brief hugs, but touched just for the sake of touching and exploring. Not in a sexual way either but just to feel another person's skin against his own. Comforting and soft in the exchange of warmth.

And Gavin is either too drunk already or not nearly drunk enough, and he really needs something else to focus on. He considers a brief wank but worries about what might creep into his thoughts, not trusting his brain to not fuck him over even more and then decides to just go to sleep and maybe someone will break into his house in the night and he'll have a perfect reason to shoot someone.

 

The loud beeping of his alarm wakes him and Gavin curses until he manages to find the damn thing and shuts it off. There is a blissful moment of not remembering why he got drunk last night but then it hits him like a fist to the nose and his already bad mood makes a turn for the worse.

He drags himself through his morning routine and feels halfway between chewed on and spit out again and slightly ill with nerves by the time he gets to work and sees RK900 already at its desk.

He makes a sharp turn to the right and makes his way over to the break area because _fuck this_ and he needs a coffee.

When he hears someone walking towards him minutes later, he fights the urge to turn around because he knows exactly which prick it is going to be. He clenches his hand around the coffee mug -- thankfully a proper one, not just a paper cup from the dispenser -- and hopes the thing will go away if he just keeps on ignoring it.

“Good morning, detective Reed,” the deep voice starts and shatters his hopes, “I noticed your elevated stress levels upon your arrival. The consume of coffee is likely to worsen your state. Chamomile tea would be a better choice.”

Now Gavin does turn around, because fucking _elevated stress levels,_ no shit. “How can I not be fucking stressed when you’re--”

The rest of the venomous answer dies on his tongue as RK900 stretches out both hands, one closing over Gavin’s death grip on the mug, the other taking a hold of the mug and begins to gently pry his fingers loose.  

Gavin twitches so hard coffee spills over the rim of the mug, hot and scalding, and he lets go, cursing loudly.

RK900’s LED spins yellow for a moment, processing Gavin’s reaction, before returning to blue. Gavin is ready to mask the flush that is crawling up his neck with an outburst of anger or spill the rest of the hot beverage into RK900’s stoic face, when the thing simply turns around, still holding his fucking coffee, walks to the sink and empties it.

“What the fuck?!” he says and shouldn’t this be the new motto of his life.

He rounds on the android, trying to appear threatening, when really his thoughts are a mess and his hand is still tingling with the phantom of a touch.

Getting within arm’s reach of the damn machine turns out to be his second mistake today -- right after leaving his house in the first place -- as its arm shoots out and grabs Gavin’s wrist with its ridiculous strength and Gavin can only stumble closer if he doesn’t want to kiss the ground.

RK900 turns on the tap and pulls Gavin’s hand under the cool stream before letting go of his arm.

“What the fuck?!” he repeats, as his brain seems to play it on a loop. He tries to fill it with all the disgust he feels for those plastic things but ends up sounding floored instead.

RK900 glances at him before taking the empty mug and filling it with hot water from the dispenser.

“To answer your so eloquently put questions, I am making you chamomile tea. It is a recommended drink to soothe both body and mind.” It looks through the cupboards a bit before it finds where the tea is stored and puts a tea bag into the steaming mug. “And I think it is a common practice to cool a minor burn, is it not?”

“It’s your damn fault my hand is burned. Just leave me the fuck alone, you robo creep!”

The thing just looks at him, head slightly cocked and eyebrow raised. “I did not expect you to show such extreme reactions to a simple touch, detective Reed.”

Gavin feels a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. Knowing that the damn thing was aware of it and actually hearing it out loud were two very different things.

“You touching me is fucking gross, is what it is,” is the best comeback Gavin manages as he turns of the water, the pain of the spill numbed, and dries off his hands.

“Just keep your fucking distance or my fist won’t keep away from your ugly face, got it?”

RK900 walks back towards him, mug filled with steaming tea in one hand, and Gavin doesn’t back down but simply takes a step back instead, to maintain the distance, and he feels the counter digging into is back and why does the damn android have to tower over him like that.

It stops half an arm's length away from him and holds out the tea. Gavin doesn’t take it. More importantly, doesn’t want any part of his body near the things hand. Or near the thing. Period.

“You say that, detective, and yet none of the micro expressions you showed indicated that you felt that way.”

Well, fuck.

Gavin’s fight or flight response is immediate and it is to shove the android, to get it away, to show that he won’t be the one pushed around and just to do something with the nervous energy that’s tightening around his throat like a noose.

The shove causes the tea to spill all over the neat uniform and RK900 purses its lips, either in annoyance at Gavin’s action and mess he caused or because it feel the hot liquid soak through the fabric.

Gavin feels trapped between feeling furious at the plastic prick for pushing Gavin like this and being caught red handed and confronted with the truth. He has no clue how to deal with any of this, and then he is out of the breakroom and halfway on the way to his desk, when he realizes that he is trapped in some sort of hell. Because the thing will sit down right in front of Gavin and there is nothing he can do to change this unless he wants to screw his career and that is not something he is ready to do.

He briefly considers going to the bathroom to punch the wall or maybe just stick his head into the toilet and flush until he leaves this reality and then just opts for his desk and putting on a security camera feed of one of his cases. He plugs in his headphones and puts them on, even though there is no sound, hoping this screams _don't fucking talk to me, I'm working_ loud enough that nobody, especially not a 6ft tall plastic prick, will approach him.

He wonders if this is karma for all the times he was an asshole to people before he remembers that he doesn't believe in shit like that.

He tries not to appear as if he's hyper aware of it when the android returns to its desk, uniform jacket slung over its arm and a wet patch visible on the white material, making it the tiniest bit translucent.

He's slightly surprised when RK900 simply sits down and starts working instead of chewing Gavin out on his behaviour. It doesn't so much as look over to him, much less mention Gavin spilling hot tea over the android.

It confuses him as much as RK900’s actions. The plastic prick doesn't get anything out of this other than the knowledge that it drives Gavin crazy.

Only yesterday the thing talked about working together and now RK900 is pushing Gavin. And Gavin's already far past the breaking point because that point had been the robo creep touching him and Gavin wanting to lean in for more instead of stepping back and planting a fist in RK900’s face right away. The breaking point had been RK900 noticing and taking advantage of it.

And now Gavin can’t push back because he knows the android won't back down or answer with fists but gentle touches instead.

Gavin knows violence, has dealt his fair share of it. He knows how to deal it out and deal with it.

But those soft touches he is open to and vulnerable against, and he doesn't know what to do when his mind wants to shut down to fully take in the feeling. Doesn't know what to do when his body wants to lean into those touches to feel more of that soft warmth against his skin.

Doesn't know why RK900 would touch him like that if not to humiliate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is something really enjoyable about tormenting Reed a bit. Especially if the one tormenting him is a 6ft tall, stoic looking android. I just imagine RK900 as someone that likes to really push against interesting weak points he finds in people. It's just Gavin's bad/good luck that his is being touched all soft  
> and Gavin is a big fucking drama queen. he's born 2002, convince me he is not gonna be super dramatic about everything
> 
> Hope you enjoyed my brainchild so far! :3 Feel free to shout out any mistakes you find (srly, please do, my ass will be forever grateful) or just shout at me.
> 
> also, I hate writing RK900 as an "it" and refering to him as a thing, throw tomatoes or sth at Gavin for being such a douche and having a broom up his ass


	3. Chapter 3

The android has Gavin on edge the whole week. He’s constantly waiting for the damn thing to fuck with him again. It makes him irritable and he’s even more of an asshole to his colleagues than usual because someone has to suffer his bad mood. Especially because he can’t vent his ever growing irritation and nerves on the thing causing it because Gavin might be impulsive and quick to act but he knows better than to tempt doom to descent upon him.

That he can’t just push the thing around until it cows in submission grinds at Gavin. He’s used to being the one that pushes people around. Used to not taking any shit unless it’s from his superiors.

It infuriates him that he doesn’t have a choice but to take it. Can’t make a scene for fear of humiliating himself in public. Can’t even request a different partner because fuck, what is he supposed to say?

He might as well throw himself out the office windows before he goes to Fowler with that. At most the robo creep would get a warning about personal boundaries and nothing more while the whole office would gossip about it in a matter of minutes.

He’s strung so tight he’s ready to snap at the smallest things and people are keeping their distance even more than usual.

The thing ignores him most of the time unless talking to each other can’t be avoided, not glancing up from work to look at him while Gavin has to fight the urge to stare at it every few minutes to gauge the situation. But he can feel it watching him when he leaves his desk to go to the breakroom or the bathroom. But it hasn’t followed him again. Hasn’t made another move.

The waiting for _something_ is driving Gavin mad and he is disgusted with himself when he realizes that part of him is anticipating it with guilty longing. He’s no better than Anderson wanting the thing to touch him. Craving the soft warmth and inevitability of the touch, if RK900 wants to touch him, because he could probably lift Gavin with a single hand. And something about the ridiculous strength the thing possesses turned into gentle skin against skin does something to Gavin and he can feel himself flush, mortified by his thoughts.

The clock seems to be crawling forward and every time Gavin checks the time to see when he can flee to the safety of his home where the only thing able to torment him is going to be his mind.

When there is a quarter hour left until his shift ends he thinks _fuck it_ and grabs his things because he is ready to vibrate out of his damn seat with the need to get out and get away from the android still diligently working away at one of their cases.

He presses the elevator button repeatedly, knowing it won’t make the doors open faster but it feels better than just standing there. The shiny metal reflects someone walking towards him, the image slightly distorted but clear enough for Gavin to immediately recognize who it is and _hell the fuck no._

He punches the button and fucking finally the doors open with a ping and Gavin is in and frantically pressing the ground level button.

RK900 is almost by the elevator when the doors begin to slip shut and unless the damn tin can wants to attract attention it won’t make it in time. Gavin flips it the bird and grins, both in relief and satisfaction that the plastic prick missed it’s chance to torment Gavin.

When the elevator stops and the doors slide back open Gavin’s brain comes to a stuttering halt and his stomach does an odd flip because there the damn thing stands, hair slightly disheveled from having rushed down the stair. Gavin considers just staying in the elevator until the doors close again and then smashing the emergency stop button because this definitely qualifies as one.

The decision is made for him when RK900 steps into the elevator with him, face stoic and not betraying what is going through its fake brain except for the slight upturn of the lips.

“Fuck off, robo creep, I’m going home,” Gavin tries to make his way past the thing but it simply steps closer, crowding him in a corner of the claustrophobically small elevator.

He practically shakes with the need to shove the android and get the fuck out but touching the thing is sure to end worse for him and so he just stands in the corner, head tilted up to glare at the offending thing.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he spits out, frustrated and strung-out, body buzzing with the need to do something.

The thing looks at him, scrutinizes him mas it steps back to stand in the way of the doors as they try to slide shut.

“You forgot your phone, detective Reed.” It pulls out his phone and offers it to him. Gavin knows for certain that the phone had been in his jacket, because that was where he always had it and the damn motherfucker must have stolen his fucking phone while Gavin had left his desk. Just so it had a goddamn excuse to go after Gavin.

“Fuck you,” he says as he stares at the outstretched phone. It can’t be that easy, he thinks as he moves to snatch the phone from the thing’s hand and he’s fucking right. The moment he grabs the phone the thing moves to snare his wrist to pull him towards it and Gavin stumbles to where it wants him dread and anticipation warring in him in a sickening mix. And then RK900 leans forward, looming but not threatening as it places a hand onto his neck, easily encircling half his throat and it’s thumb starts to rub patterns into his skin as Gavin tries not to hyperventilate.

 _Fuck_.

He fights the urge to close his eyes so RK900’s intense gaze won’t trap him any longer and he will be able to fully take in how it feels as his pulse hammers a frantic beat against the touch.

“Your heart rate is highly elevated and you exhibit signs of stress, detective Reed,” the deep matter of fact tone drags Gavin from his frozen state and he sneers. Fucking machine sounding the same as ever while it is still pressing gentle fingers against Gavin’s throat and all but caressing his neck with its thumb. "I would recommend using the weekend to try and relax if you don't want your mind and work performance to suffer."

Gavin opens his mouth to spit a number of choice curses at the damn thing but no sound comes out as he feels choked by the soothing softness and warmth against his throat. He tries to stumble back and out of reach but the thing still has a hold of his wrist and he clenches his free hand into a fist to punch the fucker in the face because he needs to get out when it lets go of him completely.

He breathes out a sigh of relief and loss at the disappearance of its skin against his and by the time Gavin got his brain back to working order and is ready to unleash his justified anger the plastic prick turns around after another one of its dissecting stares and walks back towards the stairs.

Gavin just stands there, staring after the thing, the skin of his throat tingling pleasantly and feeling more confused than ever until the doors begin to slide shut and he’s forced to move his legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Gavin is so much fun aside from the fact that I hate writing RK900 as an it  
> I'm just imagining Connor watching this unfold from the sidelines, as confused and dumbfounded by Nine's behaviour as Gavin bc I can't imagine Connor being as domineering as Nine  
> also, this story is turnign out to be longer than anticipated (probably bc my chapters are too fucking short, just like me)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this snipped, please feel free to point out any mistakes you find (not a native speaker and I sometimes like to fuck with tenses so corrections are always appreciated!) <3
> 
> Bonus:  
> This chapter was supposed to be longer but I got distracted by the idea of Nine finger fucking Gavin in front of a mirror and hnnng, so that's basically what you guys can expect in the next series bc I think I'll make this a pwp oneshot of its own
> 
> Nine lifts one of Gavin’s legs, guiding his foot to land on the chair. The hand moves slowly up his tights, short nails lightly scratching over his skin, squeezing his asscheek before dipping in between to skim across his hole. Gavin shudders against Nine, back almost flush against Nine’s chest..  
> “I want you to watch,” Nine whispers into his ear, low and rough, and Gavin can’t help the noise that escapes him. A hand takes gentle hold of his chin, lifting his head so he is staring into the mirror.  
> “I want you to see your face as I touch you.” The hand trails across his throat, over his hammering pulse point and lower still to twist and tease a nipple. “I want you to see yourself come undone beneath my hands.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Gavin gets home he takes a quick shower before getting dressed. Nothing too fancy, black jeans and a dark grey shirt, but decent enough to say he wants to catch some eyes. He makes himself some sandwiches, too lazy to cook something, and then he’s out the door and on his way to his favourite bar to find someone to hook up with.

He doesn’t want to stay at home, alone with his traitorous thoughts and his even more traitorous body.

It’s surely because it has been a while since he fucked someone. There’s nothing wrong with him aside from the fact that he really needs to get laid. Everything was alright, he still fucking hated the talking tin cans and the tall and menacing yet stoic one especially.

An imagine of RK900 touching him comes to his mind unbidden and unwanted, its hands trailing down his sides, leaving trembles and goosebumps in their wake.

And Gavin doesn’t shiver at that and his heart doesn’t speed up as his imagination latches onto the idea and he sure as hell doesn’t feel a pang of want and arousal.

All he feels is sick and disgusted at the thought and he’s perfectly alright because that’s how he fucking well should feel.

A surge of panic claws at Gavin because _fuck_ and he curses out loud, startling a passerby and earning a glare.

Why is this his life?

 

Loud music and voices greet him when he opens the door to the bar and Gavin relaxes slightly, looking forward to the distraction.

He makes a beeline for the counter to order a beer and eyes the people, trying to gauge if anyone appears like they're looking to let off some steam and not waste much time on talking first. It's a shame no one is wearing a sign saying _looking for a quick fuck_ , because that would honestly make Gavin's life so much easier.

But, as apparently always as of this week, the universe hates him, and most customers are couples or groups of friends and not even a handful of people appear to be here on their own. Gavin takes his beer and goes to an empty booth, trying not to scowl and drive away any potential one-night stands.

He's on his fourth or fifth beer, mood improving with growing intoxication but hopes of getting some all but evaporated when he catches a man staring at him.

The guy is tall and well build, brown hair and an angular face and it's a fucking horrible idea. It's horrible he's even entertaining the idea at all.

Gavin's drunk ass disagrees though and twenty minutes later he finds himself pressed against the dirty wall of a toilet stall, sharing a frantic and sloppy kiss with _what’s-his-name_ and the guys big hand shoved down the back of his trousers.

It's messy and rough, the guy obviously just as drunk as Gavin and they just grind against each other for a while as Gavin pants into the kiss.

He claws at the guys back and groans as his hand starts to knead his ass, a finger dipping between the cheeks to press against his hole rough and dry.

Yeah, that's not happening, not in a dirty bathroom stall and not without fucking lube, shit he should have brought lube.

The guy obviously comes to the same conclusion, though he keeps teasing the rim and Gavin’s hips buck forward.

“Fucking hell,” he pants against the guy's neck and tries his best to suck a hickey into it between gasping breaths.  

Fumbling impatiently, the guy manages to open Gavin trousers and the other hand stops their playing with Gavin's ass to pull the trousers down until the hung from his thighs, erection straining against his briefs and Gavin groans and leaves a wet kiss on the guy’s neck.

He hastens to do the same with the other's trousers and then Gavin remembers that he actually has some condoms to prevent a mess. It takes a few minutes, but then they're both finally wearing a rubber and the guy takes both their hard dicks in his hand and Gavin groans, back bend and hips jerking forward, as they slide against each other.

Gavin's head hits the wall with a thud and the guy leans forward, latching onto his neck, kissing up until he breathes hot and heavy against his ear and teeth graze lightly over his outer ear and Gavin moans at the sensation.

 _I_ _did not expect you to show such extreme reactions to a simple touch, detective Reed_

 _Fuck,_ he thinks as he comes fast and hard to the image of a cold gaze boring into him.

 

He spends the weekend in sullen misery and with a bad temper. Even more on edge than during the week and twitching for something to do or something to happen that would distract him. Unfortunately, life wasn't that kind and he couldn't even hope for some emergency that would call him back to work.

Part of him holds the irrational fear that the freakish thing would somehow be able to tell at a glance that Gavin had come while thinking about its ugly face. The other part of him is busy chanting something along the lines of _fuckingfuckfuckIamsofuckedsaygoodbyetolifefuckinghellfuck._

He tries to rationalise it. It wasn't his fucking fault. The guy had some similarities to the plastic prick and he had been stressed by the thing all week. It was perfectly fucking understandable that his brain was confused in the heat of the moment and reasonable that it recalled the fake face and voice of the thing.

It doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact that he wakes with a hardon that begs to be touched, so Gavin does, thoughts still slow and body pliant from sleep. The pace is lazy and relaxed because he is in no hurry to finish. Wants to savour the feeling because there is no real time to do it like this when he has to get to work and than his brain is awake enough that it connects dots that shouldn’t have any sort of connection. From there it’s like one of those _try not to think about this_ games and of course his fucking brain can’t help but be stuck with the robo creep’s face and voice.  

Gavin is not so far gone yet not to care what his imagination comes up with as he gets himself off, so he ends the wank session with a flurry of curses and a frustrated punch to the mattress before he gets up and tries to ignore his aching and pulsing erection as he takes a shower.

Monday morning greets him with a feeling of mild panic and dread and he does his best to channel those feelings into anger instead. It doesn’t quite work but whatever.

He scowls and glares at anyone he meets as he walks into the police department, scowls harder as he sees RK900 sitting at its desk and hates himself when he notices how his gaze lingers on the plastic prick’s hands.

He heads to the breakroom to get a coffee, both to hide the shamed flush that’s crawling up his neck as well as to stall for time before he has to sit down opposite the thing.

The coffee machine takes forever to start because for some godforsaken reason nobody has felt the need to get a coffee on a monday fucking morning yet. He drums against the counter impatiently and wonders if he should just go out and get one from a shop and maybe get runover by a truck on the way.

There are footsteps and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, hoping it’s not the fucking 6ft nightmare come to haunt him even though he knows better.

But the thing doesn’t talk to him and it has Gavin on edge. The footsteps come closer though and he tenses, stomach turning with nerves and definitely not twisting in anticipation.

The cupboard behind him is opened and then a big and graceful hand comes into view that Gavin can’t help but stare at and then his coffee mug is snatched away.

Gavin opens his mouth and then closes it again because he’s not playing this fucking game again although there is no hot coffee inside yet that could burn his hand. There are enough mugs here that no one will mind if he borrows one.

Hands clenching and unclenching once, twice, Gavin decides to just ignore it because everytime he followed his gut instinct to _not fucking take this shit,_ it ended badly for him.

He feels like a dog that rolled over in surrender and fucking hates it.

He can hear it using the hot water dispenser and the coffee maker finally decides to come to life when RK900 speaks.

“Detective Reed,” he can hear it coming closer, but he doesn’t turn from the counter he’s facing. Couldn’t really even of he wanted because he feels frozen to the spot, like some sort of dumb animal that just pretends to be dead when it sees a predator approach.

It stops behind him, so fucking close his body thrums with the need to turn around and at the same time to not move because he knows it’s gonna end with him sliding even deeper into the shit he’s in.

“Detective Reed,” it repeats, not sounding annoyed in the slightest, not sounding much of anything really, more like it’s just saying his name for the sake of saying it and the hair at the nape of his neck stands up. He claws at the countertop because his name out the things mouth is not supposed to sound good.

“Detective --,” it starts again, voice deep and close gavin can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Fucking what?!” He whirls around and moves a bit to the side so he doesn’t feel caged by the tall prick and does his best to glare at the thing and not let his gaze linger on it’s hand holding out a steaming mug of tea or it’s face or eyes.

It would be nice if he could purge the whole fucking image of the android from his mind.

Instead, he glares at its chest, at the blue rectangle and waits for the thing to place the mug on the counter.

“Detective Reed,” it fucking repeats again and he can’t help himself, he lifts his gaze to look at the tin can. Glares harder as it’s grey eyes lock onto his.

“Are you a fucking broken record or what?”

The thing just stares at him for a moment, gaze sweeping over his face, and Gavin can feel the flush crawling back up his neck again, heating his cheeks, as his heart starts to hammer with the worrying thought of the thing somehow knowing what he did.

“Good morning, detective Reed,” RK900 says, fucking finally places the mug on the counter, and then its artificial lips stretch into a small and crooked smile and Gavin feels like someone just punched him in the chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to "My life sucks", starring  
> Gavin, who is most certainly not in denial  
> some random guy, who helps progress our story and make Gavin realize than he most definietly doesn't want the robo d (not that he can get it bc well sry gotta make do with Rk's fingers Gavin)  
> RK900, who rly enjoys giving Gavin his midlife crisis
> 
> btw I don't think this is gonna be finished in one more chapter BC I don't wanna rush unless Gavin decides he might as well man up and charge since RK900 already knows what's up 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it so far! <3 please do shout out all the horrible mistakes my writing is sure to contain bc my brain likes to mess shit up


	5. Chapter 5

The image of the plastic prick smiling at him -- _fucking smiling --_ haunts Gavin. It haunts him all throughout the next days and nights. It’s seared into the back of his mind like some sort of shameful brand. A constant reminder of how very much fucked Gavin is.

It’s nothing more than shock from seeing the stoic android put on an expression like _that_ , Gavin tries to convince himself.

It’s a weak comfort. Half true at least, because the contrast to RK900’s usual expression was just too drastic, too unexpected and sudden. But it shouldn’t make him feel like someone squeezed his chest cavity; shouldn’t make him feel like someone punched all breath like out of his lungs.

At least the fucking tin can hadn’t touched him again. He decidedly ignores the disappointment that is mixed in between the relieve.

Gavin is at a fucking loss as to how to handle this situation, not that it had ever been under his control ever since RK900 stood in Fowler’s office, tall and with a cold and domineering aura. Was pretty much fucked ever since the fucker made its first move.

He knows people in the department have been gossiping about Gavin’s odd behaviour regarding the android. There had been too few insults, too few snarls directed its way. Too little hardly masked aggression.  But Gavin doesn’t have it in him to care much about that at the moment, too busy having a mild panic attack about what the fuck is wrong with himself to spare much thought to it.

What the fuck being wanting the robo creep’s fake hands on him, wanting all of its attention focused solely on him, wanting this itch right underneath his skin to go away.

But he has spend too many years hating the things that appear human but are anything but and yet take their places in all areas of life. Some might have developed feelings or are great at faking them but that doesn’t mean Gavin has to suddenly like them. It’s easier to continue with the same mindset than having to twist around until a part of who he is just gets strangled and dies off.

He thinks about the little twat Huckleberry Finn* he had to read about in school and has to delete three lines in the report he writes because half the words have become so illegible from his angry mashing of the keyboard not even the autocorrect knows what the fuck he wants to say.

His work performance has been abysmal ever since he got partnered up with the thing but so far Fowler hadn’t reprimanded Gavin for it. With a frown, he realizes that his workload had decreased much more rapidly over the past week than it had any right to with how all over the place he had been.

Not only had the plastic prick turned Gavin’s world upside down with a few gestures and word, he had done so while doing the job of two people.

Fucking androids.

 

Gavin is at the end of his fucking rope that’s ready to snap, dangling over an abyss. The last days have been gnawing at him and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

When it’s time to get off work, Gavin is weary and snapping at everyone and everything except the root of the problem. Caught between just letting shit take its course and struggling to get things under control.

He just wants to lie down and be able to fucking relax.

There is also something intoxicating about not being able to control anything, about having it taken from him. Something intoxicating about the mix of adrenaline and nerves and anticipation. Almost a relaxing act in itself to just surrender control.

So, when he sees RK900 approach the elevator this time, he just lets it happen, because the plastic prick will corner him either way if it so wants. Part of him chokes slightly on the idea of not even trying to put up a fight while another just craves the warmth he can’t openly admit to wanting.

They step into the elevator alone, anyone else who might have wanted to as well had surely decided to pass this one up, worried of Gavin’s temper paired with an android in close proximity. He eyes the thing, waiting for it’s move, but it seems content to just stare at him. Gavin suppresses the urge to shift from foot to foot under the scrutiny and then the elevator doors open and Gavin steps out, followed by tall and stoic.

“The fuck do you want now?” he spits out, turning around to glare at the robo creep, when the thing continues to trail slightly behind him as he makes his way to his car.

The thing steps closer and Gavin doesn’t step back, even though he wants to, tilts his head up up to stare at the thing instead as it regards him, LED going yellow, then back to blue.

“I wanted to talk to you, detective Reed, but I was under the impression you would not appreciate if I did so inside the office.” It takes another, smaller step closer and Gavin swallows as his throat goes dry. “You are sometimes rather,” it cocks its head and a small smirk tugs at its fake features, “squeamish.”    

“I’m not fucking squeamish, you piece of scrap.”

His answer is proven a lie the next instant when RK900 stretches out a hand and places it on Gavin’s neck, thumb stroking tiny circles into his throat and Gavin shudders into the heat of the touch, face burning with the shame of how fucking easy his body is.

The air in his lungs comes out in a stuttering breath as he tries not to lean into the comforting softness and sureness of the caress.

“You’re so sensitive, yet try so hard to appear though,” RK900 leans closer and were it human, Gavin would surely feel their breath ghost across his face, it’s a sobering realization but Gavin doesn’t have it in him to pull away quite yet. “why is that?”

Gavin opens his mouth to deny it but it would only sound petulant and he cuts already enough of an embarrassing figure as it is. Instead, he tries to gather his thoughts long enough in between the almost hypnotic stroking, to concentrate on what has been nagging on him the entire time.

“What do you fucking care?” it comes out less sharp and biting than he wants to but he can’t fucking help it when all he wants to do is close his eyes and let the touch wash over his senses. So, he tries again. Grabs the front of the neatly ironed uniform in a fisted hand.

“What are you getting out of this? Is it fun to humiliate me?”

It frowns slightly at the question or the treatment of its uniform, Gavin isn’t quite sure.

“I do enjoy this, detective Reed,” It starts in its precise and deep voice and Gavin feels his stomach clench uncomfortably, hadn’t known he had hoped until it’s already shattered.

“I do enjoy this,” it repeats, “but not in the way you think.” It moves its other hand to circle Gavin’s wrist, rubbing and stroking it in rhythm with the one still on his throat, surely taking measuring the frantic beating of his heart. He can feel his fist loosening as tension slowly leaves it to be replaced by goosebumps.

“I enjoy your reactions to my touch and the way your face and body language changes when you see me.” RK900’s voice lost its usual matter-of-fact tone, sounding so fucking sincere, Gavin finds himself hung up on each word, body melting against the steady motion of its hands.

“I find myself wanting to see how many reactions I can evoke from you.” Gavin is certain he must look absolutely fucking dumbstruck as a stares at RK900.

“I had not anticipated to find myself so fascinated by you after the initial impression you gave me.”  

“I don’t fucking like you, you robo creep.”

The fucker smirked and leaned in, nose brushing against Gavin’s ear and he shivered.

“But you like my touch, don’t you, detective Reed?”

And wasn’t that the entire reason why Gavin was neck deep in shit in the first place.

It’s hands still against his skin and then there is no more warmth as RK900 draws back and steps away, leaving only the ghost of a touch behind that tingles with the demand for _more._

“Goodnight, detective Reed.” With that, the plastic prick simply turns around and leaves Gavin standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Gavin isn’t sure if this is better or far fucking worse than being left with blue balls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I SWEAR the next chapter is gonna be the fucking last, I've kicked Gavin's ass like half a mile here already, now he only has to pull the broom out that seems stuck up there and fall into Rk900's arms.
> 
> Also, RK900 hre is basically me, I've disliked Gavin so much at the beginning and so held no interest in this ship at all and now I'm basically at the same level of trash for them as I am for Hank and Connor
> 
> *Huckleberry Finn, there is this whole "sound heart" versus "deformed conscience" going on with Huck bc he grew up with slavery being normal and that slaves are less intelligent and has a hard time coming to terms with the fact wha he has been taught isn't necesserily what he believes yadda yadda and it just popped into my head when I thought about Gavin bc there must be some reason why he doesn't like androids whether experience or the opinions of his family or someone that influenced his mindset (or he is just a racist asshole) but the struggle to change what you believe to be true and the correct opinion can still be applied to him as well  
> Just for anyone wondering why I put Huck Finn in there, hope I explained my thoughtprocess correctly bc I'm dead tired and my brain is already halfway in standby mode
> 
> As always, hope you enjoyed this so far and please feel free to shout out any mistakes you find! <3
> 
> "fuck" counter so far: 96  
> Gavin go wash your fucking filthy mouth with some goddamn soap


End file.
